Father
by DisenchantedDestroya
Summary: Team Free Will's thoughts on the word 'Father'. Four short drabbles from Dean, Sam, Castiel and Bobby.


**Dean**

I suppose you could say that my dad was never exactly Father of the Year material, but that doesn't mean that he was a bad guy. Hell, that stupid son of a bitch was (and is) my hero.

When I look in the mirror I hope to see Dad looking back at me. Or, rather, his bravery somehow shining through. When I was a little kid all I wanted was to be just like him and now I guess I do too. Of course I know that he wasn't perfect and he sure as hell screwed up plenty, especially with Sammy, but that doesn't change the kind of person he was. He was a hero.

John Winchester is a name, even years after his death, that strikes fear into the cold, murky hearts of all those evil bastards out there; demons, wendigos, ghosts, ghouls and everything else in between.

He taught me everything I know. And not just hunting things either. He taught me the importance of family, the importance of looking after Sammy. Yeah, so maybe the kid's not a kid anymore, but I've still gotta look after him. He'll always be my baby brother, it doesn't matter if he's taller than me or has got a college education under his belt.

Dad gave me the most precious thing he had to give. He gave me his youngest son.

**_00000_**

**Sam**

If you asked me about my dad I'd probably tell you about all of the good things he did, the people he saved and how he always tried to do he thought was best by me and Dean. If I asked myself about my dad I'd remember all of the times he screamed at me, the odd few times when he threw a punch at my teenaged face and how pleased I was to be rid of him that time I ran away at Flagstaff and then, later, to Stanford.

If you asked me about my father, I'd probably tell you about Bobby Singer or Dean.

If I told you about Bobby then I'd tell you about his house, back before the Leviathans burnt it down. When I think of home I think of two places; one of them being Bobby's house at Sioux Falls and the other being my big brother's black Chevy Impala. I'd tell you about how I've read most of the books Bobby had there, how I always slept in the same bedroom when I stayed there with the same soft blankets, how Bobby would always greet us with a beaming smile and, when we were old enough, a nice cold beer. I'd tell you about the maze of banged-up old cars he kept in his yard and how Dean used to play hide-and-seek with me there when we were kids. I'd tell you about the familiar smell of whisky, burnt food and incense that wafted throughout the rooms, making the house reek of safety and love.

If I told you about Dean then I wouldn't know where to start.

I think I'd probably begin with the one story that pretty much defines it all. Although I can't remember it myself, when I took my first steps, with both Dad and Dean egging me on, I walked towards Dean and stumbled into his open hands. I went to Dean. I turned my little toddler back on John Winchester and stumbled over to my big brother. I think that tells you all that you need to know.

Not that I'd ever tell Dean this, but when I think of who my father is, it's usually his name and face that springs to mind.

**_00000_**

**Castiel**

My Father left us all long ago.

He created a world full of beauty and flaws in equal measure, then He left it. No. He abandoned it. His most powerful creation, the archangels, were set to light it up and He did nothing. Lucifer, His own fallen son, rose out of his eternal prison and He just sat idly by as His children suffered.

I was angry then and I still am now but maybe I understand it a little bit more. It is painful to see the thing you most love destroy itself. I think I understand that now.

**_00000_**

**Bobby**

I don't like thinking about my father. He was a brute and a bastard and the sort of person I was terrified I'd turn out to be.

I'm dead now and rescued from Hell by Sam Winchester, a kid that I suppose I could say I had a good hand in raising. A damn good hand in raising, actually. His big brother too. I was like a father to the Winchester boys. I only ever tried to do what was best by them. Sure, maybe it got me killed in the end but it was damn well worth it.

I can remember the first time I met Sam and Dean. Dean was holding his brother up in his arms and glaring at me like he was deciding whether he trusted me enough to put four-year-old Sammy down. I respected the kid right there and then. When he deemed me worthy of having Sam's little feet walking around on my floor he still held onto his little brother's hand, like he thought letting him go would be the same as throwing him into the same fire that killed their mom.

In the years that followed I daresay that those boys came to see me as a father just as much as I came to see them as sons.

Those two idjits made my life worth living. I guess it's hella ironic that I got shot in the head trying to help them.

Wouldn't have gone any other way though.

_**0000000**_

_**A/N:**_

Today, due to the storm last night that battered Britain, I was without electricity between two in the morning and about seven o'clock this evening. I wrote this to kill the boredom but could only make it short through fear of my iPad dying on me. I swear, one of these days I'll actually write something of substance.

Thank you very, very much for reading this, I hope you liked it and please let me know what you think! :3


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